


A Matter of Trust

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has one simple job and that job is to sell Enjolras out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gif](https://31.media.tumblr.com/23cd954b3708549b306f23f6979ee3c8/tumblr_n2oc7oH79p1qz9rlro1_250.gif) which [defractum](http://defractum.tumblr.com/) gave me as a prompt on tumblr.
> 
> This is a different organised crime AU to the other one. I hope that doesn't confuse anyone.

Grantaire has a very simple job to do. He needs to get Enjolras into the warehouse, make sure the door is locked behind them, and then let the pieces fall into place. They're going to be outnumbered in there. He knows that. Enjolras doesn't. Enjolras has absolutely no idea that half the members of the gang they're meeting are undercover agents. The other half are getting thrown behind bars too, right alongside Enjolras. Because Grantaire is going to put him there. 

Grantaire's job was a hell of a lot easier on paper, sixteen months ago when all he'd known about Les Amis de l'ABC was the fact that they aim high and aren't afraid to use any means necessary to ensure that they accomplish what they want. Before he'd managed to work his way into the group, letting them underestimate him with every sip he took from his ever-present flask, every argument with Enjolras over the futility of their plans. He tries not to think about the others, about his friends, because he's never going to see them again. He hasn't said goodbye but he won't be able to after this point because it isn't very likely that any of them are going to let him get away alive if they run into each other again.

It's funny, Grantaire thinks to himself. After tonight, he might just be the only person who would be able to drive Combeferre to finally getting his hands dirty. Funny in a terrifying way. Grantaire's plans from here on out pretty much boil down to finding a nice hole to crawl in and hide for a while.

"We're running late," Enjolras mutters, checking his watch as Grantaire pulls up and parks the car in the street by the warehouse. 

"You mean we're ten minutes early instead of fifteen," Grantaire replies. Not that it's going to matter anyway. He knows that the others are already going to be inside. Their cars are parked out of sight and Grantaire is careful not to let Enjolras see them.

"Just move." Enjolras is in work mode and Grantaire hangs back to admire the fluidity and grace with which he moves, like a predator stalking its prey. He has no idea how wrong he is. Grantaire figures he might as well appreciate the sight now, because he's never going to be able to appreciate it again.

And he thought he hated himself before Interpol tracked him down and told him that they had a very special deal to make with him.

Grantaire carries the suitcases of weaponry, all procured by Les Amis. They're impossible to be acquired by legal means outside of the army and Enjolras thinks that they're going to be used to kick off a mutually beneficial relationship. For Enjolras, if this meeting goes well, Les Amis will have a chance to work their way up to the leader of this particular gang, who has a very heavy influence over one of the most influential right-wing politicians in the area. When Grantaire can manage to distance himself from the whole situation, he's begrudgingly impressed by the fact that Enjolras is willing to put the time in for this. 

Enjolras opens the door, pausing when he sees the others waiting for them already. He steps aside for Grantaire, not noticing the way he shuts and locks the door behind them because he's taken the main suitcase from Grantaire and is already walking further into the warehouse. 

"You're early," Enjolras comments.

"As are you," the leader of the group replies. He smiles approvingly. This isn't one of the undercover agents and Grantaire has to look away because he doesn't know how to deal with the knowledge that without their interference, this deal would have worked out just as Enjolras wanted.

"Well, then." Enjolras smiles in reply. "Shall we get started?"

Grantaire knows how this is going to play out. Enjolras is going to demonstrate how to use the guns. They'll be a higher calibre than what the gang members are currently used to so he'll teach them how to use them. The moment they have guns in their hands, the undercover agents are going to point theirs at Enjolras. It's Grantaire's job to take care of the others. 

Enjolras takes one of the guns out and starts stripping it, explaining the differences between it and the ones that the gang normally uses, why this is better, easier to handle once they get used to it, superior in every single way. Grantaire stands apart from Enjolras, but not too far to make anyone suspicious, and watches.

It's unfair that Enjolras is so incredibly beautiful as he pulls his gun apart and puts it back together without slowing down, without even having to look. It's unfair that Grantaire needs to ruin the one good thing in his life, and for what? He gives them Enjolras, they give him his freedom.

"One more time," Enjolras tells them, turning to the table beside him to take the gun apart once more. 

Really, Grantaire thinks, what is freedom going to mean when Enjolras is captured or tortured or dead and the rest of Les Amis decide to hunt him down? It doesn't take very much to put himself in any of their shoes, he knows that if anyone was responsible for handing Enjolras over to the authorities that they've all managed to evade for so long, he would hunt them down and make them pay. He's a hypocrite, he's a coward, he's an idiot for thinking that Interpol can give him anything worth having. 

When it comes down to it, he'd rather have Enjolras than a quiet life and all the freedom that isn't going to be his anyway. 

Grantaire is very good at making people underestimate him. He can make himself look unthreatening, not worth paying attention to. He ambles around the group as they watch Enjolras, and they don't even notice when he walks behind them, pulling his gun out. 

Enjolras notices. He keeps talking, keeps showing them different aspects of the gun in his hands as he pulls it apart, puts it back together, like it's a puzzle instead of a weapon. He keeps his eyes on Grantaire. 

Marius had joined the group after Grantaire, but he'd quickly proved his worth by not only getting rid of an incredibly determined tail, but helping them develop a sign language that only they know. It's still very basic, but they build on it regularly and the important thing is that they have a sign alphabet, and that's all Grantaire needs at the moment. 

He points at three of the gang members and finger-spells _I-N-T-E-R-P-O-L_. 

To Enjolras' credit, his expression does not change at all. Grantaire signs, _on my count_ and pulls his second gun out.

"Now, a proper demonstration so you can see it actually being used," Enjolras says, and Grantaire would snort if not for the way his heart is racing.

_Three_ , Grantaire mouths clearly. _Two. One._

With the gun in Enjolras' hand and the two that Grantaire has, they shoot the three agents in their heads. Enjolras turns his gun on the leader and fires before he can draw. Grantaire shoots the other two half a second after and lowers his guns, swearing under his breath.

"You could have salvaged the situation," Grantaire says, looking at Enjolras. "The leader wasn't undercover. He liked you."

"Too messy," Enjolras replies. "I don't know if I would have succeeded in talking him down. At least now I can go back to the rest of the gang and say that we were set up. They'll owe us. Anyway, start packing up. We're leaving."

Grantaire obeys. They don't have long before the backup agents arrive and Enjolras seems to know that too. They don't speak to each other beyond the simplest of exchanges as they make sure that they have everything and leave. Grantaire carries their suitcases back to the car, where Enjolras already has the boot open. 

"Where to?" Grantaire asks, because going back to headquarters is a really fucking stupid idea. 

"North. I have a place for us to lie low and make sure we don't get followed," Enjolras replies. 

Grantaire starts driving, following Enjolras' directions, until they're driving down a quiet road in the middle of nowhere and it's clear that they aren't being followed.

"Keep driving," Enjolras says, and presses his gun to Grantaire's temple. He flicks the safety off. "And drive carefully. We don't want my gun going off by accident."

"Pretty poor judgement, threatening to kill your driver while they're driving," Grantaire tells him. "If I die, you die."

"I might," Enjolras allows. "But it seems my judgement has been off for a while. Hasn't it, Grantaire?"

Grantaire says nothing, and keeps driving. 

"You knew those undercover Interpol agents were there. You were going to sell me out." 

There's really no point in lying. Grantaire sighs quietly. "Yes I was."

"But you didn't." Enjolras' frown is evident in his voice. "Even though Interpol would have offered you… what, a clean slate? In exchange for me."

"No point in a clean slate when you know it's going to get dirty again," Grantaire replies. Enjolras doesn't reply and the sigh Grantaire lets out this time is a little more agitated. He tells the truth. "I believe in what you're doing. I believe in what you're doing and I believe that the way you're doing it is the only way it's going to work. You can't change the world by appealing to people, but scaring them into changing their minds? Yeah."

"You couldn't believe in something if you tried."

"I believe in _you_ ," Grantaire bites out, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at Enjolras. "Whatever that counts for. Look where it got us."

Enjolras is silent for a long moment before he finally says, "Combeferre was suspicious."

"Okay."

"You don't seem surprised."

Grantaire snorts. "If I'd followed through on the plan, he probably would have hunted me down and killed me himself."

"Don't flatter yourself." Enjolras pulls the gun away from Grantaire's temple and puts the safety back on. "Combeferre would have tracked you down but Courfeyrac would have killed you. He wouldn't let Combeferre get blood on his hands."

"That's love for you," Grantaire murmurs, mostly to himself. As he keeps driving, he sees a sign for the motel, as per Enjolras' directions. He turns into the driveway and parks the car, looking at the wheel when he speaks. "You didn't kill me."

"I haven't killed you _yet_ ," Enjolras corrects, and gets out of the car. 

Their conversation is put on hold while they check in. The rest of the car spaces are empty. Grantaire doesn't see any signs of life beyond the bored man at the front desk. They still end up with the one room.

They leave the suitcases in the car. Grantaire follows Enjolras to their room and when the door is locked behind them, he start speaking again. "If Combeferre was suspicious, why did you go through with the meeting? Why did you take me?"

There's one double bed in the room and Enjolras takes his coat off, dropping it onto the chair beside it. "I knew you wouldn't sell me out."

"How?" Grantaire laughs hollowly. " _I_ didn't know I wouldn't sell you out, not for certain."

"Well maybe," Enjolras says, holding Grantaire's gaze, "I believe in you too."

Grantaire lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sags against the door. "Why the fuck would you?"

"You don't seem to understand," Enjolras murmurs, walking across the small room so that he's standing right in front of Grantaire, pressing him back against the door. "You're one of us. It's hard to join Les Amis and it's even harder to leave."

"I fucking know that," Grantaire snaps. "I couldn't. Enjolras, I couldn't—I couldn't let them have you. I couldn't."

"I know, Grantaire." Enjolras takes Grantaire's face into his hands. "I knew you wouldn't. I trust you, and you haven't shown that my trust is misplaced."

"I'm sorry," Grantaire whispers. "I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything you want."

Enjolras smile is sharp. "I know you will."

He kisses Grantaire hard, biting down on his lower lip. Grantaire lets out a startled moan, trying to pull away. Enjolras follows him, kissing him again.

"Why—?" It's incredibly unfair that Grantaire's voice is already so rough, just from being kissed twice. 

"Combeferre told me to find a way to get out of our meeting tonight, because he didn't trust you," Enjolras tells him. "I didn't listen to him. Do you know how often I ignore Combeferre's advice?"

"Never," Grantaire croaks. He doesn't deserve Enjolras' trust. He doesn't deserve any of this. 

" _Never_ , except for you." Enjolras' lips are hot against Grantaire's jaw, kissing a trail to his ear. "I booked us a room with one bed and it's not because I was only expecting one of us to survive the night, Grantaire. Put two and two together for me."

"My mathematics skill leaves a lot to be desired," Grantaire mutters but when Enjolras leans in for a kiss this time, he's ready. 

They hold onto each other as they kiss, until Enjolras reaches between them, palming the front of Grantaire's pants. Grantaire breaks their kiss with a loud moan. It only serves to encourage Enjolras, who undoes Grantaire's pants and reaches into them, wrapping his fingers around Grantaire's cock and stroking.

Grantaire's knees buckle and the only things keeping him upright are Enjolras and the door behind him. Enjolras strokes him mercilessly, their foreheads resting against each other as they both pant softly.

"I fucking hate you," Grantaire pants. "You have no idea how much sleep I lost over what Interpol was asking me to do. And here you are, smug because you _knew_ I wouldn't be able to do it. You know I'm yours and I can't do anything to change that."

"Of course you're mine," Enjolras murmurs, twisting his wrist and making Grantaire cry out. "You need me, don't you? You wouldn't know what to do without me."

"Yes." Grantaire means to sound bitter but it comes out sounding more desperate. " _Yes_ , fuck, Enjolras—"

"Come for me," Enjolras whispers, and Grantaire does as he's told with a soft moan. 

These are the only pairs of pants that Grantaire has with him, and he's just come in them. He grimaces, but Enjolras is already undressing him and ushering him towards the bed. Grantaire doesn't have the energy to do anything but follow along, watching as Enjolras undresses as well, getting into bed beside him.

"You're hard," Grantaire says quietly. He's never in a thousand years thought that this would be happening, that Enjolras would be taking his hand and guiding it to his erection. He strokes carefully, watching as Enjolras' eyes slip shut with a sigh. "Fuck."

Enjolras rolls over so he's on top of Grantaire, fucking into his fist. This doesn't make sense, because Enjolras should hate him, should be leaving him to rot somewhere that nobody will find him. Not this. Not pressing his face to Grantaire's neck and chanting, "Mine, Grantaire, mine, mine, _mine_."

Like Grantaire has any chance of forgetting that.

Enjolras comes with a moan of, "oh, _Grantaire_ ," across both their stomachs. He lazily wipes them of with the corner of the bed sheet and lies down beside Grantaire.

Grantaire doesn't know what to say or do. Luckily, Enjolras clears his throat. "We'll head back tomorrow. I already texted Combeferre to let him know that he's wrong, so we wouldn't worry."

"He's not going to trust me, ever."

"You let me escape being captured, rather than have a brand new life."

"What kind of life would that be, without you in it?" Grantaire mutters. "I chose not to work with Interpol because the costs far outweighed the gains."

"You're sensible. Combeferre will appreciate that."

"Please never use that word to describe me again."

Enjolras huffs with amusement and turns onto his side to look at Grantaire. "I trusted you with my life from the moment you joined the group."

"You knew that I took one look at you and fell head over heels," Grantaire guesses.

"…Not until now, no," Enjolras says surprised. "But I have the feeling that even though we just exchanged orgasms, I'm going to have a difficult time convincing you that I want you."

"Why would you—"

"Shh, leave it for now," Enjolras tells him. "We have a long drive back tomorrow. We'll have plenty of time to talk. I believe in you, Grantaire, the way you believe in me. Perhaps you should start believing in yourself as well."

"I don't deserve you," Grantaire says quietly.

"We're both bad people," Enjolras replies. "I think we deserve each other."

Grantaire snorts. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"We deserve each other," Enjolras repeats, and curls his fingers around Grantaire's. "Sleep. We'll talk about this in the morning, if you still need to."

"I will," Grantaire warns, but finds it's impossible not to smile when Enjolras kisses his shoulder and tucks them both as close to each other as physically possible. 

"Go to sleep, my Grantaire," Enjolras murmurs, like it's the most casual thing in the world. Like it's something Grantaire could get used to.

He doesn't actually get to sleep for a while, because he's too busy imagining that.


End file.
